ÁJÒ ÒLÈ DÀBÍ ILÉ….
The Double-Edged Sword of Japa: Nigeria’s Mass Exodus and Its True Cost.
Every time I hear the word Japa, it cuts like a blade. Friends I grew up with pack their lives into suitcases, clutch one-way tickets, and step into airports with dreams of new beginnings. Derived from the Yoruba word for “to run” or “flee,” Japa has grown from a slang into a national reality. For some, it is escape. For others, it is survival. But for all of us, it is a mirror reflecting both our desperation and the failures that have pushed us to this point.
To be clear, I do not blame those who leave. Who wouldn’t want working hospitals, secure streets, or salaries that stretch beyond mere survival? Subsequently, the tragedy of Japa is not that Nigerians are migrating it is that too many feel they have no choice but to run. In 2025, a country as richly endowed as Nigeria should not be exporting its best and brightest simply to give them a chance at dignity. Japa is not just movement; it is an indictment of corruption, insecurity, and broken leadership.
Truthfully, there are undeniable gains. Migration often transforms not just individuals, but entire families. My cousin Ade left Lagos for London five years ago; today his remittances built his parents a house and paid his sister’s school fees. Across Nigeria, billions flow back annually covering tuition, hospital bills, and small businesses. Abroad, Nigerians find functional systems hospitals that treat patients, schools that teach, governments that respond. Professionals thrive in ways often impossible at home. A doctor in the UK works with modern equipment rather than battling strikes or shortages. A software engineer in Canada hones skills that stagnated in Nigeria. Most likely, many even return with greater confidence, skills, and exposure, enriching the country if they choose to reinvest. For some, migration is not betrayal it is survival. It is dignity. And sometimes, it even sparks resilience at home, as institutions forced to cope with brain drain begin training new talent.
Figuratively, the other edge of the sword is sharp. Nigeria is bleeding talent. In just a few years, thousands of doctors, engineers, and academics have left, leaving hospitals understaffed, startups drained of innovation, and universities struggling. Every departure weakens institutions already stretched thin. The financial toll is staggering. Sadly, we celebrate remittances, but ignore the billions lost to tuition abroad, visa fees, and resettlement costs resources that could have strengthened our own systems. What we call “escape” is, in reality, capital flight: Nigeria subsidizing the prosperity of others while starving itself. And then there is the human cost. Families are fractured; parents grow old alone while their children video-call from abroad. Marriages strain under distance, children grow without parents, and communities are hollowed out. Even for those who succeed, many face racism, isolation, or jobs far below their qualifications. They are caught in-between never fully accepted abroad, yet no longer fully rooted at home.
Furthermore, the real enemy is not those who leaves, it is the system that makes leaving the only rational choice. It is leaders who let hospitals collapse while flying abroad for checkups. It is universities crippled by endless strikes while politicians’ children graduate overseas. It is insecurity so relentless that some Nigerians risks migrating through the deserts and oceans rather than another night of fear. Also, if these conditions remain unchallenged, we risk becoming an emptying shell rich in oil and culture, but poor in people and hope.
For now, I choose to stay. Not because it is easier, but because leaving feels like surrender. Eventually, if all of us go, who will rebuild? If every skilled Nigerian trades citizenship for survival, who will confront the corruption, poverty, and violence that hollowed out our nation in the first place? Nigeria does not lack talent. It lacks systems that allow that talent to flourish. Until we demand accountability, invest in strong institutions, and build leadership that serves rather than steals, Japa will remain a wound that cannot heal.
In reality, Japa is not simply a trend it is both a promise and a warning. The real fight is not at the airports. It is here, at home, against the failures that push us out. Until Nigeria confronts them, every one-way ticket will not just be a personal escape, it will be a collective loss. Moreso, every one way ticket starts to feel like a journey of no return.
Haven’t you noticed how this has become the average Nigerian man’s dream? It’s so ironic because, the average white man’s dream is to be like us. Haven’t you seen them trying to speak our languages? You’ve seen their funny Pidgin English videos, or speaking Yoruba or even dancing to Afrobeats music in Nigeria. Trooping in and trying our food? We like these videos and laugh but forget to in turn become proud that this people really want to be like us. They are obviously learning and taking back to theirs. This is what we meant when we said RETURN WITH GREATER CONFIDENCE and SKILLS, ENRICH YOUR COUNTRY, and CHOOSE TO REINVEST. You leave where is actually greener, this place is only turning brown because they come-take-build back at theirs, don’t tell me you don’t see the lots of exporting or rather even exploiting? Don’t tell me you do not see the Foreign Direct Investments (FDI) as well, and even Neo-Colonialism. So, why not do the same? Go-take-build. It works for them, it’ll most definitely work for us!
A friend of mine said JAPA is not the solution, personally, I also don’t like the trend. Just because everyone is doing it does not mean it is the only thing that is cool. Rather, do it with a new twist. Travel out and come back to your home, to your family, to become great in your father’s land. There is a Yoruba proverb that says “Ájò òlè dàbí ilé” and it is honestly the truth. Meaning: There is no place like home. No journey like home, wherever you travel to can’t be compared to your home. Stop putting up with the racism, stringent leaving and trying to fit in. Go, study and come back to reinvest where you absolutely belong.
WRITTEN BY: AYI.
Co-written by: Goodness Felix-Adebayo.
There are greener pastures,
So colorful it overlaps the black country.
The youth wants a shade of it,
The adultd are buying every bit of it’s canvas,
Even the children have the vivid image in their mind.
But you see green, I see green, it appears green.
But can it really be green?
Colors are a credit to their Artist,
When you go to it without a sunlight, even the greens can become brown.
The young farmer has sold all he has,
Abandoned his primary farmland he spent years growing with.
The Fisherman has given up on his tools in his natural river of habitation.
He loves golden fish, He sees them all around in this green rivers.
The trader must buy the greens at all cost,
Is that not the latest in town everyone has gotten?
The Doctors wants green patients, the blacks gives them black money.
The Potter is tired of moulding clay, he heard he can mould gold out of greens.
When all are gone,
What would happen to the black land?
Would it not keep on getting black?
When the colorists have all absconded to the greener pastures.
Poem Written by: theblessinggift.🖋️
